A/N: Just an expository chapter for now. This is my first attempt at fan fiction, so I'm feeling out the territory a bit before delving in fully. Please review, your feedback is greatly appreciated.
Sirius survived the battle at the ministry. Set after Voldemort's final fall.
I own nothing, except my lone character.
--A.G.A.
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Her. He knew it the moment his gaze rested on her sad, distant eyes. Greyish blue orbs coated with tears waiting patiently to be shed. The dysphoria she embodied pulled his heart strongly to her. Feelings of longing, pain, and empathy filled him, driving his desire to make her smile and let joy touch her, if only for second. He would make that second grow to a minute, onto an hour, then to a day, and ever onward.
He stood in wonder at the heaviness of the emotions churning through his being. He had forgotten where he was in the world; a line at the local muggle café. Moving one foot in front of the other he left his spot unconsciously. He needed to meet her. Know her. Dawdling was not an option. He intuitively felt that inaction would erase this chance eternally. And he would be the one to save her from the inexplicable pain that radiated from her eyes.
Halfway to her his own insecurities paused his flight. He was a man, at most, twice her age. She might be overcome with revulsion, rather than comfort in his wake. He couldn't bear that thought and the pain it created struck him deeply. Then again, it might not matter. Rejection is an inescapable risk, no matter the circumstances. Why should he let it freeze his approach to the being his heart was crying for.
Regaining his purpose, he searched the room for her. Time and his opportunity were slipping past him in a steady invisible stream. He spotted her again. Her thin frame was poised at the creamer area, slipping an unwrapped straw into an iced coffee. She pushed her long, dark scarlet hair over her shoulder. He closed the distance between them in a few long strides. She picked up her purse and the coffee, ready to make her way to the door. He was in front of her. She paused.
It was his moment.
The fragile, downcast eyes before him slowly, steadily rose to his own orbs of charcoal. She probed his unexpected gaze with uncertainty, trying to somehow discern his intentions. She was not used to being seen. The intensity of his gaze made her feel exposed, ripped from the protective shield of anonymity she maintained, out into the harsh, blinding spotlight. But, the sick feeling of uncertainty fled as fast as it set hold. Warmth took its place, filling her body from limb to limb. All she could find was good pouring into her. Comfort.
He spoke.
"I'm S-sirius." he stammered, surprised at the sound of his vocal chords. His husky baritone breaking the magical silence surrounding them, jerking them both from their trance. "I mean to say, I'm Sirius Black." He said more clearly and assuredly, holding out his hand.
She lifted her hand in response, as if by reflex, and looked at their joined hands with wonderment as he shook her own. Tenderly he grasped the soft pale hand extended before him. Time seemed to slow. She lifted her large blue depths to his again and in her quiet, gentle voice said "I'm Annabel."